


Two of Us

by LarryOn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Exes, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarryOn/pseuds/LarryOn
Summary: Louis Tomlinson has just debuted  the most personal song he’s ever written and performed it live for the entire world to see. After such an emotionally draining day the last thing he expects or wants is a text from his former band mate, Harry.





	Two of Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! I was so proud of Louis today, I wrote this in celebration.

“Well done, Louis!” Mark, Louis’s manager, slapped him on the back and pulled him into a tight embrace. “That was excellent. Couldn’t have gone better.”

“Yeah, cheers mate. I’m pleased, I really am.” Louis said. He returned the hug but then quickly extricated himself. He hastily swiped his sleeve across his eyes. He’d made it through the song without crying or choking up. The tears were there but they hadn’t spilled over. Yet. “Just give me a few. I’ll be out in a mo.” He called out with a wave as he slipped into his dressing room. Mark had been the last human obstacle between Louis and a moment of privacy. The first live performance of his new song had gone well. Mark was right. But fuck, was that draining. He had expected as much, singing such personal lyrics about the worst thing that had ever happened to him, baring his darkest thoughts to the entire world via live stream. He had expected it to be hard but he didn’t know exactly what it would feel like after the fact. And what it felt like was a confusing jumble of elation and exhaustion. He felt as though he’d given everything he had and was left feeling lighter because of it but empty at the same time. He needed a moment to refill.

Louis hadn’t planned to write about his mum’s death so soon. He hadn’t felt completely ready to tackle such a heavy and personal subject but after two years of “recording an album” and not having much of anything to show for it, he had to do something different. And he was glad to have done it. Glad he could move on, not from his mum, never from his mum, but from this elephant of a song that he had needed to write, needed to release into the world, in order to allow himself the freedom to write more, to write something else. Writing this song had lessened the stranglehold Louis’s grief had held on his creativity. He could tell it wasn’t gone, certain he would have to revisit the subject again, musically. His grief would always be with him, but like he wrote in the song, so would his mum. Louis hoped he had made her proud that night.

Flopping down on the sofa, Louis closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Ten minutes was all he needed. Just ten minutes of silence and peace before he rejoined his team, his fans, the world. He was already starting to feel more solid, more stable. He craned his neck back and spotted his phone, left behind in the dressing room before he went on stage. Sure, most people would say there’s no space for Twitter when you’re trying to recharge and center yourself but fuck it, Louis knew there was a massive amount of love pouring in from his fans right then and he wanted to revel in it. A few minutes spent scrolling through his mentions wouldn’t hurt.

Of course, it wasn't just twitter, he had loads of supportive texts from his sisters, his mates in Doncaster, posh Hollywood friends. He quickly scrolled through the congratulations, planning to respond to them all in the morning, eager to get on Twitter and see if the new song was still trending. He whizzed through the names, grinning at the who’s who of everyone Louis loved, when, hold up. Fuck. Did he really just see what he thought he saw? No, there’s no way. He frantically scrolled back through the texts. Oh fuck. There it was.

**Harry**

A text from Harry. Harry, who he hadn’t heard from in two years. Not a call, not a text not a fucking tweet. Radio silence for two fucking years. Not that things had been stellar between them for the couple years before that but still, there had been something. And the last time they’d been in the same room, backstage at the X Factor, three fucking days after Louis’s mom had died, Harry hadn’t even looked him in the eye. He’d kept his distance the entire time, never giving Louis so much as a pat on the back. Ever since that night, nothing.

His finger trembled as he held it over Harry’s name. There was no way Louis was leaving this dressing room without reading that text. He would spend the rest of the night fixating on it, wondering what Harry had said, why he all of a sudden decided to reach out. But what if reading the text sent Louis down an even bigger spiral? He was fucked. There was no way out of this. He could see his night stretching out ahead of him, sliding doors style, but either option led to the same end result. This was Louis’s day, his mum’s day, and now he was going to spend it obsessing over Harry. Well fuck him for that.

Louis let out a sigh. If he was going to be thinking about it all night, he might as well know what Harry had to say. He tentatively tapped on his name.

_Proud of you L xx_

 

Louis pressed his lips together, his mouth a thin straight line. His brow furrowed as he read the text again. And again. Three little words and three stupid letters. Bastard couldn’t even type out his name. Fuck. Now what? Louis should have known he wasn’t going to be able to just read it and move on with his night. But what could he say back? How could he adequately convey the pain that Harry’s distance had caused him? How could he let Harry know that despite everything that had happened between them, everything that had happened with the band, Louis had needed Harry and Harry had been a ghost. How could he respond to this tiny little crumb of friendship it had taken Harry two full years to send Louis’s way with anything less than an expletive filled treatise entitled “Harry Styles is a Selfcentred Prat and He can Shove His Proud of You’s Up His Arsehole.” He didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that right now, never mind the time.

 

_Proud of me?! Thanks mate, but I have no use for your pride. You can fuck right off with that bullshit._

 

Delete, delete, delete. Harry might deserve it but Louis didn’t need to feel like shit all night for spewing such negativity.

 

_That’s nice H. Could have used some of that support anytime in the last two years mate, but better late than never I guess?_

 

Delete, delete, delete. As much as Louis wanted Harry to know how hurt he was, he didn’t want to get into a discussion about it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

 

_Thanks Harold! That’s mighty big of you. #blessed_

 

Delete, delete, delete. Lose the sarcasm, Tommo.

 

_He lives!_

 

Delete. He doesn’t deserve your wit.

 

_Thank you H._

 

Delete.

 

_Thank you._

 

_Thanks._

 

_Ta._

 

Delete, delete, delete. It was hopeless.

Just as Louis was about to switch over to Twitter, he saw those three pesky dots pop up under Harry’s text. Fuck, Harry was writing more? Had he had Louis’s text open this entire time? Had he been watching the three dots on his end, waiting, waiting for Louis to finish typing and send something over, something long judging by the amount of time those dots must have taunted him. Louis pressed his fingers to his brow then scrubbed his hand down his face. Well even if he can’t compose the perfect response to Harry’s ill-timed message, at least he was able to torture him a little bit. Louis pictured Harry watching his phone with bated breath, squirming in his seat, waiting for a text that would never come.

But now that’s what Louis was doing so…there just wouldn’t be a clear winner, he could live with that. But then…

 

_Things were weird the last time I saw you. I was weird. I’m sorry. I know we agreed to be friends but it was already so hard for me and then when…when you lost your mum I just…I didn’t know how to be there for you, not in that way. I still had so much love for you, Lou. I didn’t know how to give you what you needed while holding back everything that you didn’t want from me anymore. I’ve wanted to reach out before now. I’ve wanted to tell you how brilliant all of your songs have been. They really are, Lou. You’re amazing. I don’t know if I’m any more able to be “just friends” with you now than I was back then, but if it’s alright with you, I’d like to try. I’ve missed you. Terribly. I would gladly take your friendship, if it’s still on offer. I thought I couldn’t handle being friends, but being without you has been so much worse. I’m sorry for laying all of this on you, this is your night, that was unfair of me. I was just so happy for you, I couldn’t stop myself and then…well I guess I just felt like you deserved an explanation. So that’s what this is. As well as the longest text message ever written. H xx_

 

Louis stared at the screen, his vision getting blurry, the tears that had been threatening to spill over all night finally making some headway. He tried to blink back the tears to no avail, his heart thudding in his chest. The dots reappeared.

 

_I really am so proud of you, don’t know if I have the right but I am, Lou. So proud. If you want to, I’d love to see you. I’d love for the two of us to try being friends again, to try being anything again, anything other than this. Is that something you’d be into?_

 

Finally, his heartbeat loud but steady, his cheeks wet but his vision clear, Louis knew how to respond.

 

_I would._

 


End file.
